


An Angel's Fear

by RedShirtWriter34567



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Nightmares, Scared Aziraphale (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23037403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567
Summary: Crowley finds out Aziraphale's worst fear.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 134





	An Angel's Fear

Crowley rolled over in his sleep and stretched a hand out across the bed. His fingers brushed across empty sheets instead of the soft skin of a certain angel. He grumbled and opened his eyes slowly. The bedroom of their cottage was dark, faint moonlight streaking in through the curtains. Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen. Crowley frowned and sat, rubbing at his eyes. While he did most of the sleeping in their relationship, Aziraphale took part in it sometimes too, especially after a date night like this evening had been. If he didn't sleep, he still stayed in bed reading while Crowley cuddled against him. So where was he now? 

"Zira?" Crowley slurred, still shaking off the remaining tendrils of sleep. 

He kicked off the warm blankets and swung his feet to the floor, wearing nothing but his black boxers. The bedroom door was open just a crack. Crowley's curiosity peaked and he left the bed, walking into the hallway and down the stairs. Aziraphale wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, though there was evidence that the kettle had been used, and the liquor cabinet was open. A bottle of new Scotch had been opened and was half empty. Crowley raised an eyebrow at that. He shut the cabinet and walked down the hallway that led to his plant room and Aziraphale's library. Sure enough, when Crowley turned the corner, he saw that the door was ajar, light spilling across the dark hall. He approached the door and pushed it open further. The room had been miracled to be much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. Many of Aziraphale's most treasured books had been brought here, along with some comfortable second hand furniture. Crowley padded across the rug-covered wood floor toward the couch that faced out toward the window that overlooked the garden. Aziraphale was sitting in the armchair beside the couch, facing away from the demon, wearing his dressing gown, his white-blond curls still tousled from the night's activities, his winged mug sitting on the table beside an aged Oscar Wilde volume.

"Angel?" Crowley asked carefully. 

His husband whipped around. His blue eyes were red and swollen, as if he'd been crying. He scanned Crowley from head to foot, as if checking for an injury.

"Are you okay, love?" Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale was silent for a minute. A tear gleamed in the lamplight as it coursed down his cheek. He moved quickly from his chair and embraced Crowley like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. Crowley staggered from the force of the hug but remained upright, guiding his angel over to the couch. They sat down, Aziraphale keeping his face pressed into his demon's chest, crying softly in his skin. Crowley stroked his husband's soft curls and whispered soothing things into his ear, rubbing slow circles across his back. Eventually, the angel's sobs settled and he pulled his face away from Crowley chest, sniffling.

"What happened, Angel?" Crowley asked, taking one of the angel's hands in his and interlacing their fingers.

"I had a nightmare," Aziraphale admitted. "It was horrible. I didn't want to disturb you so I made some tea and came in here to try and take my mind off it, but..." His voice cracked slightly. He squeezed Crowley's hand. The demon squeezed back. 

"What was it about, love?" Crowley asked. The angel very rarely suffered from nightmare when he did sleep, and he seemed incredibly shaken up by this one.

"You know how you're afraid of thunderstorms?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded, rubbing small circles into his angel's hand. Aziraphale took a deep breath and continued. "I dreamed about my greatest fear."

"What fear?" Crowley asked, both concerned and curious now.

Aziraphale licked his lips before he spoke. "My worst fear is something happening to you," he answered quietly. "Even though it's been months since the failed apocalypse, I still worry that Heaven or Hell will come after us. I fear what they'd do to you if they ever found out about our switch." A few tears spilled down his face and his voice cracked again.

"Oh, Angel," Crowley murmured gently. He cupped his husband's face in his hands and wiped his tears away with his thumbs. He pressed their foreheads together. Aziraphale gripped the demon's wrists, ocean-blue eyes meeting serpent gold.

"You don't have to be afraid. Aziraphale," Crowley said. "Heaven and Hell know better than to come after us now. And even if they do, we always find our way back to each other. That's how it's always been, yeah? Finding each other through the centuries, helping each other out?"

"It was mostly you helping me, dear boy," Aziraphale chuckled. "I certainly had a knack for getting into trouble."

"And I have a knack for getting you out of trouble," Crowley countered with a grin. "I'll always be here for you, Angel. I love you."

"I love you, too, dearheart," Aziraphale said. 

They shared a kiss and Crowley laid back on the couch, keeping the angel against his chest. Aziraphale hummed and tucked his head under his husband's chin, snuggling against his warm skin. He felt Crowley press a kiss to the top of his head before miracling up a soft blanket to cover them. The angel sighed languidly and closed his eyes, feeling safe and warm in his demon's arms. 

"Goodnight, Angel," Crowley whispered, snapping his fingers to turn the lamp off. 

Aziraphale fell asleep quickly, his warm breath ghosting across Crowley's skin. The demon smiled to himself and stared up at the library ceiling, designed to look like the night sky, all glittering stars and colorful galaxies. He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to just bask in what he had-a husband, a life he controlled, and home to come to after a long day. 

'I'm certainly a blessed demon,' Crowley thought to himself with a slight smirk on his lips.


End file.
